


All Unquiet Things

by hydraxx, showmethelions (sightandsound3733)



Series: This is Why We Fight [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Multi, Rebel AU, Rebel Matt Holt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydraxx/pseuds/hydraxx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightandsound3733/pseuds/showmethelions
Summary: A missing scene from our story, So Come To Me: Commander Holt’s revenge. (Takes place concurrently with Chapter 7.)





	All Unquiet Things

**Author's Note:**

> We fully recommend that you read So Come to Me, and the rest of the This is Why We Fight verse before reading this, or you will be so lost. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Matt breathes out harshly, back pressed against the wall, clamping a hand over his shoulder. He takes just a moment to close his eyes against the burn of the blaster's shot through his armor and the flight suit underneath. "Fucking shit!”

"Commander?" Martek’s voice comes quiet and concerned over his helmet comm, their own private and secure line. “Are you alright?”

"I’m fine, Martek,” Matt murmurs. “Lucky shot, now they’re dead.” Martek’s soft sigh crackles in his ear, but Matt ignores it in favor of scrolling through the readings he’s got running on his helmet viewscreen. "Code’s fully integrated, all the drones corrupted and knocked out. Give me a read on how many officers are left.” He grips his shoulder tighter, the pain flaring under his grip before it fades to an ache he can ignore for the moment. “Give me the highest rank first.”

He pushes off the wall before Martek gets him an answer, rolling his injured shoulder, letting the pain focus and center him. The file pops up in the corner of his viewscreen seconds later, and Martek’s voice in his ear a moment after that.

“Three officers just ahead, sir.”

Three? Dammit. He'll need to break them up, get them on their own. Two on one he can usually handle, but three is a risk he isn’t willing to take without backup. 

Matt runs a hand down to his thigh, double checking that the stealth screen over his legs is still activated. Last thing he needs is a shine off the metal giving him away to sharp Galran eyes.

He can see them on the map now, three blinking little dots crowded together in a room off the base’s main level.  

"Secure, sir. No one in the surrounding area." Good. They can't risk an ambush like the one that took out the Beta team in the first place. Matt grits his teeth at the thought, the reminder of why he’s here in the first place. 

"How many did I take out so far?"

"Ten, sir."

"How many left?"

"The three officers, two ranked pilots and four footsoldiers."

Matt pauses. "Can you pull info on the footsoldiers?"

There’s a pause. "New recruits, sir. "

"Young?"

Another pause, and then a soft, "Yes."

Like the Betas. Matt swallows back the bitterness that coats his tongue. "Noted."

Matt ducks into an alcove a few yards away from the room the officers are in. He doesn’t know what they’re doing, and honestly, he doesn’t care. They won’t be doing it for much longer. 

Draw them out one by one, don't attract the attention of the others. He can do that. He's done it plenty of times before. He rolls the blasted shoulder again, trying to will away the sharp ache so it won't affect his swordsmanship.

He scans the area in search of something he can use for a distraction, anything to draw them out.

There's a blinking light across the hall that he squints at—computer. Ooh, he knows that kind. The wires spark like crazy but it won't be enough of an explosion to warrant all three officers coming to investigate. Perfect. He pulls his pistol from its holster.

"Just one good fucking shot, please," Matt mutters, more to himself than anything. "I don't need to be fucking Robin Hood, no splitting arrows, just fucking hit the damn thing." He pulls the gun up and tries his best to take aim.

He's done some training with Zarra, but it's fairly dim in here… ugh, fuck it, it's a big enough target. His hands are steady, at least. He pulls the trigger and grits his teeth against the recoil.

The shot, miraculously, makes contact and the computer starts to hiss and fizz before it breaks down completely, making popping noises as it shuts down. Matt grins when he hears the alarm from inside the officer's space. He can just make out the gruff sounds of one of them being told to go investigate.

"Commander Holt?"

"I'm fine,” he murmurs, pushing to his feet. "I'm fucking great, actually."

He waits until the officer is bent over to inspect the source of the commotion before striking. Hard hit, enough to take them down cleanly, leaving only a grunt and a dull thud in their wake. Matt readjusts his grip on the sword as he backs into deeper shadows again. A few seconds pass with no sound of interest or suspicion from the other two.

Matt wipes the blood off his sword while he waits. Someone will come out soon. Empire officers are antsy. They don't like to wait.

He knows the feeling.

Ah, there it is—a silhouette in the doorway. The hall is too dark for them to make out the form of the first officer’s body on the ground, so they're forced to walk toward what they can see, which happens to be the sparks from the shot-up computer. Right toward Matt.

This one is definitely higher ranked, bigger, broader, and with an armor upgrade. Matt turns off his comms for the moment, grinning because Martek is going to fucking strangle him for it, but he doesn't care. He waits until the officer is distracted, shielding his face from a sparking wire, before he slips from the shadows on an inhale and impales his sword through a gap in the armor on an exhale. The body hits the floor with a strangled cry, but Matt kicks him over and gets his throat before he can even take another breath.

"Rya?" The cry was enough to rouse the last officer, but Matt's prepared with a blade and a grin. It's just the two of them now. He stalks toward the open door.

“Hey there." Matt grins, though it goes unseen beneath his helmet. The officer freezes as he steps into the light of the room, sword glinting wet with the fallen officers’ blood. "I'm gonna take a wild fucking guess that you're running the show here."

The officer slams the control for the base wide alarm and whips out a long dagger. They jump to their feet as the siren starts going off, teeth bared, ready to attack.

Matt swings the sword in his hand, calmly waiting by the door. "Come on," he taunts. "What are you waiting for?"

A low growl rumbles from the officer. Their eyes dart over Matt, searching for weaknesses, for hesitations.

Well, Matt was kind of hoping for a complacent officer and an easy fight, but after what happened to his Betas, it'll be pretty nice to expend some real energy.

This is clearly the one in charge. This is one who will have given the order to kill his pups, his kids. This is the one he wants to make hurt.

"You made sure they fucking suffered," Matt mutters under his breath. He waits patiently, keeping a firm grip on his sword until the officer hesitates—just barely, probably thrown off by his nonchalance—and then he lunges.

The officer is quick. Their blade comes up to block Matt's blow, they fall into a stance to absorb the momentum, they try to shove it back at Matt, but he's got metal legs and it's easy to plant himself and use the force of the impact to send the officer stumbling back. 

They whirl into another blow that Matt manages to block, then another, and another. Idiot. Didn't anyone ever teach them not to tire themself out? Especially when the opponent is half robot, and it's really fucking easy to reach out and swipe them off their feet. The officer lands half on the control panel with a yelp.

"You clearly had some fun with my soldiers earlier," Matt growls, slipping smoothly into Galran so there's no misunderstanding, striding forward and knocking the blade out of the officer’s hand with a sharp slice of his sword. Blood spurts hot from the new wound and a cry rings through the air as the thick, ugly Empire-forged blade clatters to the ground. "Bet you didn't think there'd be retribution."

"Rebel scum," the officer rasps. 

Matt barks out a laugh. "Oh, it's almost better that you don't even know that was a reference. But I don't have time to explain that now." One more slash gets the officer across the throat.

It's a bloody mess, one that is going to make his life a little more difficult when he gets back to base, but damn if it isn't a little satisfying now. 

He turns his comms on again to catch Martek muttering darkly. "—verytime! Everytime! He smirks at me and they all laugh but who has to deal with the nonsense of a Commander who won't keep the damn communications open? It's me!"

"Having a little rant there, Martek?" Matt asks, stepping away from the body, turning his attention to the console. That fucking alarm is annoying as hell.

"Just going over your data, sir," Martek says icily. 

Matt shuts down the alarm and wipes his blade on the officer's uniform. "Good. I've got all three control officers down so there should be two left and the four footsoldiers, right?"

"Yes sir," Martek confirms. "They'll be on high alert now."

"Good. That's where I want them." Matt picks up the officer's blade, spinning it in his hand. "And I've got a new toy to play with. This’ll be fun."

"Sir?"

"Don't worry about it, Martek." Matt switches the view in his helmet to seek out the last six lifeforms on the base and tucks the officer's dagger into his hip belt. He's gonna have a little fun.

Martek sighs, a hot puff of static in his ear. "Of course not, Commander."

"You love me, buddy, you know you do." Matt grins as he rolls his injured shoulder and takes off down the hall. The remaining soldiers have to be on alert by now, with their drones deactivated, the base locked into the barest functionality, and no officer orders to back up an alert.

He pulls up the schematic of the base. They're probably either in the barracks or weapons storage, though someone might have thought to go find their officers in person if they can't get them on comms after that alarm.

Matt goes to round a corner and then immediately scrambles back at the low sound of growled Galran. 

Shit shit shit, two of them together, motherfucking  _ God _ , dammit. 

"Martek?" he hisses.

"Sir?"

"I'm going to need you to tell Leilani I'm probably gonna need them."

"What?! Sir—"

Matt turns off his comm again. Breathe. He's got two close combat weapons now—he can probably figure out how to fight with a sword and dagger at the same time, right? He's trained on both of them, just not together… Okay, it's probably a bad idea, might even give him a worse chance of survival, but he's done stupider things.

Matt steels himself with a deep breath and unsheathes his sword before stepping out just as the two soldiers are coming around the bend. 

"Hi there," he taunts, grin sharp and unseen. He lets himself feel the burn of guilt and anger and grief once more. Wonders which of these two laid a hand on his poor kids. "Do you have the time?"

One of the two—a footsoldier—already has a blaster in hand and immediately takes aim at Matt. He manages to dodge the first shot and miraculously knocks the blaster from the soldier’s grip with a sharp kick.

"Gonna have to work harder than that," he chuckles under his breath.

The second takes a shot and misses, the blast of it hissing past Matt's ear. He rolls his eyes. Fucking amateurs. 

He ducks the blow from the first footsoldier and slips away a pace or two, falling into a ready stance.

The first soldier pulls a dagger from their belt and charges Matt, ignoring the other's yell. Probably one of the new recruits Martek mentioned, not used to mixed-arms battle yet. Matt grins. This might be easier than he thought, after all, with the first engaging him closely enough that the second can't get off a clear shot.

It's easy to bait the soldier, to keep them close, to feign that they’re gaining control. It's even easier to hook the ankle out from under them, slitting their throat as they fall.

The blasts start as soon as the second soldier realizes that the first has gone down for good.

The angle the strike left him in is too awkward to get out completely unscathed. Two shots get him in the ribs, one after another. He goes down harder than expected, slamming into the floor. 

Snarling, Matt forces himself to recover, shoving himself up to a knee and grabbing the blade from his belt, whipping it like a dart at the officer.

It buries itself just under the edge of their torso armor and they stumble back with a scream,  clutching at the dagger. Matt lunges forward and deals the final blow with his sword to send hot blood spraying across the hall.

He waits until the body crumples before cursing aloud at his own pain, clutching at his side. "Fucking God!"

Definitely some damage to his ribs, if not from the shots, then from the fall. It hurts to breathe. Fucking great. 

He turns the comm back on, managing to get his breathing a little steadier. "Martek."

"Please stop doing that, sir!" Martek snaps, voice overwrought with concern.

"Status. Last four. Now."

"Two footsoldiers guarding the weapons cache, one with the last officer heading toward the command station."

"How far?"

"One building over, moving fast."

"Got it." Matt re-sheaths his sword on his back and leans down to retrieve the first soldier’s lost blade, a pained groan slipping past his lips as his ribs burst into flames.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"No, I'm ambidextrous," Matt mutters between gritted teeth.

"Commander, please." Martek's voice is so close to being strained. "Are you injured?"

"Little bit," Matt manages, forcing himself to straighten up, tucking the dagger into his belt. 

“Please be careful, sir.”

"We'll see." Slowly, Matt starts making his way out of the building, testing his ribs with a grimace. Bruised ribs and a blasted shoulder aren't too bad. Nothing life-threatening. And if the other new recruits are as green and stupid as the last one, they won't pose much of a problem—he can be back in his pod and shooting toward base in a few minutes, tops.

Four left. Four left. Almost done. 

Matt makes his way toward where Martek directed him, almost grabbing his pistol just to keep his distance and maybe get this finished.

Low voices ahead. Matt presses himself against a wall, hoping this planet's foggy gloom will mask his form enough to avoid another loud confrontation.

The voices are approaching quickly and dripping with unease. Matt pulls out the dagger first, palming the handle. 

"—And you can't get anyone?"

"All I'm getting is static!"

Two silhouettes emerge from the fog on a trajectory that will take them right past Matt. When they're a few steps away he growls in Galran, "Maybe you should try another line." As soon as they pause in surprise, he's sinking the dagger into the neck of the closest. More blood splatters across his body armor when he rips the weapon through their throat.

He's quick enough to get back into the shadows and for a few moments it's enough to confuse the understandably panicking second soldier. He manages to get his sword out in time to block a shot from a blaster.

“Sir, are those blaster shots?"

Fuck, he forgot to turn the comm off.  _ Fuck _ ! Martek just heard all of that—the stupidly smug taunt, the visceral dying cry of the soldier that now lies motionless on the ground.

Before he can think of anything to say, to brush this off, he has to block another shot and then dodge away from the snarling officer coming right at him. "Not now, Martek," Matt manages, falling into a crouch before pushing off, the strength from his legs propelling him forward so he can strike at the hand holding the blaster,

The weapon goes flying, along with several fingers, but what Matt doesn't expect is the retaliatory fist from the other side. He stumbles back, gasping and dazed, wondering how the fuck they cracked his helmet with a punch—

He blinks, vision clearing enough to catch the glint off the knuckles. A metal hand. Jesus Christ.

It almost looks like Shiro’s, what little Matt’s actually seen of it so far, but it’s made of a darker metal, which honestly makes it look more menacing. More deadly.

"Fuck," Matt curses, shaking his head as static crackles sharply in his head, as Martek's worried voice fades in and out. "Are you fucking kidding me with this bullshit?" He straightens up and snarls, brandishing his sword. "You know what? Fuck it! Let's dance!"

The officer’s fist glows a sickening purple as they snarl in answer. They sink into a defensive position, just waiting for Matt to try and strike.

"Sir!" 

"Not fucking now, Martek!" Matt snaps, pausing only long enough to deactivate the cloaking on his legs and let the fucker see they aren't the only special snowflake before launching toward them.

Matt strikes out with one foot, sweeping at the officer’s knees to knock them off balance or, if he's lucky, to the ground. Lightning-quick they aim a second blow at the same spot on his helmet.

It sends him reeling, and it really fucking hurt. Static crackles sharp in his ear, feedback screeching from the comms, Martek's voice so broken as to be completely unintelligible. He's quick to whip the helmet off to get away from the grating sound. 

He tosses it to the ground and snarls at the soldier, launching forward with his sword at the ready. The soldier gets his glowing arm up to block the blade, but Matt doesn't let it throw him. He can't. With his other hand Matt pulls the dagger out of his belt, sword still locked with that fucking arm. He growls. 

As soon as the soldier shifts to push his sword away, Matt swings the dagger right into the side of their neck.

The officer snarls, completely animalistic, and some instinct in Matt goes tight with panic but he shoves it aside for a growl of his own. "Stay down," he spits, carving the dagger through their throat, jaggedly slitting the fucker's throat like they had his kids.

There’s enough of a desperate bit of life left in this one to get off a wild swing of the tech arm. It catches Matt at the temple, sending him stumbling with stars bursting behind his eyes, but it doesn’t matter.

The officer falls limp, blood gurgling thickly from the gash in their throat. They’re dead.

Matt wrenches his dagger away and steps back, gasping, trying to shake the stars from his head. The dagger goes back in his belt. 

He slumps against the nearest wall for a moment. Two left. Just two. At the weapons cache, Martek said—that's not far from here if he remembers the base map correctly. He shakes his head once more, sharp and dispelling.

The world swims in and out of focus as Matt swallows back a wave of nausea. That’s the start of a concussion for sure. He can’t focus on it, though, he has to keep going. It’s almost done.

He’s vaguely aware of warm blood running down his face as he tries to find his helmet. Martek. Gotta get in touch with Martek.

He fumbles the helmet on and tries to connect the comms. "Martek?"

Silence. 

"Martek!"

He's not even getting the static return that usually signals a bad connection or damage. There's just nothing. Fuck.

"Fucking—why did I expect anything less?" Matt snaps, pulling the helmet off again. The thing is barely functioning, the inner screen cracked something awful. 

Just peachy. 

Matt closes his eyes and clutches his helmet so hard his knuckles ache. Gotta find the weapons storage. Gotta take out the last two and get back to the pod. He tries to conjure the map in his mind. The storage building isn't too far away.

Matt's fought in worse condition before. This is nothing, really. Once he's moving, he's good, he's fine. 

"Onward," he mutters, sheathing his weapons, gripping tight to his currently useless helmet. "To infinity and fucking beyond."

The first couple of steps are staggering, but Matt manages to get his feet under him and set on a course toward the last two soldiers.

Weapons storage. Up ahead. He just wants to go home.

He's not trying for stealth anymore. There's no one else on base, and the last two are just new recruits. They can do their worst—they won't last long anyway. He trudges through the gloom until he hears movement and a wary, "Who's there?" in Galran.

Matt doesn’t respond, only draws his sword. He needs to end this, dammit.

A few muttered words pass between the two soldiers and then one stalks forward. Matt sees the barrel of their blaster first and not much else as he immediately lunges forward and slashes his sword just below their helmet. They drop without more than a dull thud. One left.

There's a cry of alarm from the remaining soldier. They’re frantic as they get their own blaster up, calling into their helmet comms for an alert, for backup, an answer, anything. 

Matt turns to face them, arching a brow when he sees how shakily they hold the gun. Oh, this is just a pup. Maybe even younger than Jion. 

With a sigh, Matt steps forward and lands one final, merciless blow, right through the weak spot in every footsoldier's chestplate. The pup goes down. 

It's done.

He doesn't linger. Doesn't want to see their faces. Matt turns on his heel and heads for his pod, head pounding, ribs on fire, each breath like the drag of a serrated knife.

He grips the damaged helmet tight. Their equipment techs will kill him if he loses it, they're always so short on materials. Not far to the pod. He can make it. Once he's there he'll comm Martek, make sure he knows his commander is okay, tell them he's on his way back.

The base is eerie and quiet, but Matt knows which way to turn so he can avoid the scattered miniature bloodbaths he's caused. 

"Martek’s gonna have a fucking conniption," he mutters, shaking his head. Breathing is… it's not fun right now.

He's gotta focus on something to get past the pain, and his mind jumps right to Zarra. She’s not going to be happy that he got himself injured. At least he's coming back, though, because God save Martek if he had to keep her from avenging Matt.

"She'd throw him around like tissue paper," Matt murmurs, laughing at the thought. Doesn't matter that laughing hurts. It's fucking funny. 

He gets  inside the pod before he has to rely only on the strength of his legs to function. First things first: Martek.

The pod hums to life under his hands and Matt clumsily turns the comm on before collapsing in his chair. "Martek," he rasps as soon as the connection goes through.

"Commander Holt!" The response comes instantaneously, tinged with equal parts relief and outright panic.

"I'm in the pod." Matt sits as he says it, preparing for takeoff on muscle memory alone. "I'll be back soon.”

"Yes sir," Martek breathes out. "I—what happened, sir? I could hear you fine and then—"

"Blow to the head." Matt cards a hand through his hair. It comes away skimmed with blood. Lovely. "Knocked out communications. Look like the Empire's been handing out tech goodies like candy. And here I thought I was just special."

"Sir?"

"I'll explain later," Matt sighs. The pod's engines rev and in moments he's soaring away from the carnage below. Back toward home, back toward kin.

"You're alright to fly, sir?" 

"Yeah I'm good," Matt reassures. "I mean, I'm definitely going to need Leilani. I fucked up my ribs for sure. But I'm okay."

"I'll make sure they meet you at the hangar, sir."

"And Zarra. Get Zarra." Matt winces as his piloting movements pull at his injured ribs. Suck it up, Holt.

"Of course, Commander."

"I'm going dark for now. But I'll be home soon."

"Yes, sir." Martek sounds like he’s almost relaxed now. "We’ll see you soon, Commander. I'll take care of everything."

"I know you will," Matt chuckles, curling an arm around his waist to stave off the pain. "You always do. Holt out." 

The connection cuts, Matt flicks on the autopilot and sinks back into his chair. This is the easy part, the trip home, or at least it should be. 

Matt closes his eyes tight. It’s taking every ounce of concentration he has to stay somewhat upright or the cloudy dizziness flooding his mind will only thicken. He’ll be home soon, back to safety, back to kin. To Zarra. The world will steady again in her arms—it always does. 

He just has to get there.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. You can find us at this-iswhywefight.tumblr.com, where we're always taking questions and requests.


End file.
